


First Midnight

by writetherest



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 06:31:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writetherest/pseuds/writetherest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Running away from the ball already?" She turns and finds the figment of her imagination standing in front of her, as real as can be. She nearly blends in with the darkness, but the rubies and her eyes sparkle under the moonlight. "And it's not even midnight yet." </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song of the same name in Stephen Sondheim's _Into The Woods_.

Emma Swan stands in front of the mirror, taking in her reflection. The mayor's New Year's gala is in full swing and everyone from Storybrooke is in attendance, which she's sure is the only reason she was invited.

She had spent the better part of the day getting ready with Mary Margaret. They'd made it into a girls' day, laughing and gossiping as they painted their nails, put on their makeup, styled their hair, and got dressed. She likes to imagine that getting ready for prom would've been that way, if she'd ever gone to prom when she was a teenager.

The gown she's wearing – picked out with help from Mary Margaret and Henry - makes her feel beautiful, and Mary Margaret has done a wonderful job on her hair. She feels almost like a princess, all dressed up and at such a fancy party. She can almost believe she's in one of Henry's stories. Almost.

But she also feels incredibly out of place. The only other times she's been dressed up like this are when she's chasing down criminals and it's called for. She much prefers her jeans, boots, and jackets. If there's one thing she knows for sure, it's that she's no princess – not in this life or any other.

So she slips away from the party and takes up residence in front of the mirror that seems to be taunting her with the knowledge that this is most definitely not her style.

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall," The silky voice that she'd know anywhere comes from behind her, sending a delicious shiver up her spine, "behold the fairest of them all."

She turns then and takes in Regina, looking every bit the queen Henry believes her to be - although evil or otherwise has yet to be seen. She's wearing a gorgeous black silk gown that hugs her every curve and contrasts with her olive skin in a way that makes Emma's head spin. There are rubies dangling from her ears and a choker at her neck that makes it look almost like a thin line of blood on her throat. Emma's fingers itch to run up the column of her neck and feel her pulse beating just under the skin. Her lips tingle with the desire to trace that line, to mark it and the woman before her.

She swallows and pushes the thoughts from her mind before addressing the mayor. "I'm not Snow White."

"No," Regina says, taking in the red dress - the same color as her beloved apples, and as the panties that Emma had been wearing that morning when she'd opened the door without a thought to Regina holding a basket of apples and had let her in, still thinking nothing of the fact that she was in only a tank top and red panties, panties that had haunted Regina's thoughts since that day - and long curls cascading over Emma's shoulders and bare back, "you certainly aren't. But I wasn't talking about you anyway."

Regina smirks and Emma realizes that she was referring to herself. She shakes her head. "Have you ever heard the song You're So Vain? Because I'm pretty sure it was actually written about you."

Regina laughs then, actually laughs, and damn her, but it's a beautiful sound. "You do amuse me, Miss Swan." Her eyes rake over Emma's body again. "And you also clean up well."

Emma rolls her eyes and turns back to the mirror. This isn't who she is. Not at all.

Regina takes the opportunity to study Emma's bare back - the smooth, pale planes begging to be touched. She moves closer, not stopping until she knows her breath will hit Emma's neck.

"You're not having fun at my little party, Miss Swan?"

Emma's eyes slip shut as the hot breath washes over her. "I'm having a fine time."

"Then why don't you come back out and join the rest of us?" And the tone she uses swirls around the words until they're changed to 'then why don't you come back and join me in bed' and Emma can't deal with that, so she turns quickly and walks right past Regina back to the party.

A server is passing with a tray of champagne and she grabs two flutes, quickly downing one. This is probably not a good idea least of all because her son – and she's still getting used to that, _her_ son – could be watching her drink like a fish right now, which is in no way a good example to be setting, but she's taking her chances because he's already got a mother (who is at the center of this whole problem) and she's more than likely to just screw him up anyway if she even tries her hand at this parenting thing.

"Everything okay?" A voice asks from behind her, and she jumps the littlest bit before she realizes that it's Mary Margaret and not Regina.

"Fine." She puts on a smile for her roommate. "Just – you know – Regina."

"Ah. I see." Mary Margaret smiles softly at her, like she knows something that Emma doesn't. It's a smile she imagines a mother might have – knowing but not judging. She shakes her head. Henry's fairy tales and the champagne are definitely getting to her.

"I need to get some air." And again, she leaves before her companion can say anything.

She slips out into the backyard and stands under the apple tree, drawing in large breaths to try and calm herself down and rid her head of the images floating through it. Images of removing Regina's jewels and stripping her of that dress and… she knew coming here was a bad idea.

"Running away from the ball already?"

She turns and finds the figment of her imagination standing in front of her, as real as can be. She nearly blends in with the darkness, but the rubies and her eyes sparkle under the moonlight.

"And it's not even midnight yet."

"I think you've been reading too many of Henry's fairy tales, Madam Mayor." She tries to keep her voice steady.

And there's that laugh again. "Just be sure to leave your shoe when you run off into the darkness. So that I can find you later."

"You've mistaken me again." Emma moves closer to the voice, the eyes that are mesmerizing her in a way that has her believing that maybe Regina does have magical powers like Henry says. How else can she explain this pull she feels towards the older woman tonight? "I'm not Cinderella either."

"No?" Their bodies are close again – Emma can feel the heat radiating from Regina and sinking into her own skin. Not cold like she'd imagined, but hot, scalding almost.

"I'm not a princess at all."

Regina reaches one hand out, fingers dusting over Emma's cheek. "You certainly look the part tonight."

"Looks," Emma breathes, her hand coming to rest against the silk at Regina's waist of its own accord, "can be deceiving, Madam Mayor. You of all people should know that."

"Indeed."

And then she's leaning in, closer, until Emma can smell the apple cider on her breath, and god, this is such a bad idea, but it's also such a good one, and she tilts her head up, ready to meet the mayor when -

"Regina?"

"Emma?"

"Mom?"

Kathryn, Mary, and Henry all call out together, and the moment is broken. Regina straightens, regally, and glances back toward the house. The tree and the darkness have them hidden, but only for a few moments longer.

She lets out a small chuckle. "The spell is broken."

Emma blinks once, then raises her eyebrow. They've been dancing around this for long enough. It's time to end it, one way or the other. "I thought it lasted until midnight."

Regina moves back a few steps, but Emma can see the way her eyes sparkle. "Find me at midnight, and we'll see, Miss Swan."

And then she's gone, as though she'd never been there in the first place. Emma slumps against the tree and again pulls in deep breaths of air.

"There you are." Mary Margaret is easy to spot in the darkness, the white of her dress lighting her whole body in the moonlight. "Everything okay?"

Emma nods, still processing all that happened. "Fine. What time is it?"

"Just about eleven thirty, why?"

"Just wanted to make sure I didn't miss it."

And Mary Margaret's got that knowing smile on her face again, as though she knows that Emma's not really talking about midnight. "No. You've still got time." She reaches out and takes Emma's arm. "But we'd better get back inside now. Wouldn't want to miss your first midnight on New Year's in Storybrooke."

"No," Emma replies, her lips already tingling, "I most certainly wouldn't."  



End file.
